


In Sunshine and in Shade

by thestarsapart



Category: Sports Night, The West Wing
Genre: Canon Compliant, Epistolary, Female Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-10
Updated: 2019-05-10
Packaged: 2020-02-29 06:23:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18773041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thestarsapart/pseuds/thestarsapart
Summary: Excerpts from fifteen years of friendship





	In Sunshine and in Shade

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HYPERFocused](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HYPERFocused/gifts).



> Title from the poem "We Have Been Friends Together" by Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton

**August 30, 1984**

Dear Natalie,

I had the best summer ever at summer camp with you. I am really happy that we were in the same cabin and that you said we should be Summer Best Friends. I was nervous about going to camp by myself but I had a really good time and learned a lot of things about archery and swimming and soccer. I never thought I liked sports but you were so good at teaching me the rules and explaining why they were exciting. I know you said you want to be an ice skater when you grow up like Dorothy Hamill but I think you’d be really good at a job where you could talk about sports, like a coach or a teacher maybe, or like that guy on the TV who comes on after the weather.

I am back at home in Minnesota now and school starts next week but I wish it was next summer again already so I could see you again and we could go canoeing on the lake. I was nervous to write you because this is the first letter I ever wrote to anyone except my grandparents and I think you must have a lot of real friends in Ohio. But you said we should be pen pals when it’s not summer so we can keep being friends until it’s summer again.

Here is a picture of my dog Betsy who I told you about. She is a Jack Russell Terrier but she’s a girl dog, it’s just her breed that’s called Jack Russell. Here is also the four-leaf clover that you put in my Nancy Drew book but you forgot to take it back. I hope you have good luck all school year and that your soccer team wins the championship. I definitely think they will, you’re really good at soccer.

Please write a letter back soon and send me a picture of you and your brother and your dogs. I still have the friendship bracelet you made me and I will wear it all year till next summer.

Love,

Donna

 

 

**September 9, 1988**

Dear Donna,

I can’t believe we’re in high school already! So far it seems pretty cool to me. I joined the school newspaper last week and told them I’m going to write about all the games from now on. I thought I’d have to fight some senior for the sports section, but it turns out in a school with only a hundred students, there’s not a lot of competition. Of course, there’s not a lot of sports teams, either, but still, they’re all mine now!

I’m so excited to be a teenager but I can’t believe we won’t see each other at camp anymore. I tried to talk my mom into letting me go back next year to be a counselor, but she says I’ll be busy at soccer camp next summer and I’ll need to be around to watch my little brother. Which is so dumb, he’s ten, he can look after himself.

I miss you so much already! I cried all the way home, I swear. But we’ve been pen pals and Summer Best Friends for four years now, and I bet we can keep it up until we’re old enough to drive and visit each other and I won’t have to babysit my brother anymore.

Anyway, I know you’re nervous about starting high school because it’s so big and in the next town over, but it’s going to be totally awesome, I promise. You’re going to read a million books and make a thousand friends. You are the coolest person, you just don’t know it yet. But that’s what high school is for! For figuring out who you are and, in your case, for figuring out that you’re the coolest, smartest, funniest girl in the school. Just promise me that when you’re going to all the parties and getting asked out by all the cute guys that you won’t forget your Summer Best Friend, and that you’ll keep writing me to tell me about all the fun you’re having.

Love,

Natalie

 

 

**April 17, 1992**

Dear Natalie,

First of all, congratulations on getting into Northwestern! I’m so proud of you. I’ve been telling all my friends here that my Summer Best Friend got into the journalism program at Northwestern and is going to be a sports reporter.

I got good news in the mail this week, too. I got into the University of Wisconsin! I’ll be in Madison and you’ll be in Evanston. That’s only a two and a half hour drive. It would be so great if you got a car and came to see me. Or I could come to see you if that’s too far for you to drive. I bet you’ll be pretty busy with your journalism classes and the school newspaper and I’m sure you’ll get internships in the summers, too.

I wish I knew what I was going to major in. When I read their brochures I was thinking about maybe doing veterinary medicine, because I remembered how nice the vet was when we had to put Betsy down, but I don’t know if I could handle being around sick dogs and cats all the time. Same with being a nurse, I guess, except with sick kids and babies instead of pets. My math grades are good but I don’t think I want to be a scientist or a teacher. I want to do something where I’m helping people. But like, a lot of people. It’s not like I think I’m going to change the world, like I want to be Sandra Day O’Connor or Margaret Thatcher or something, but I just want to make things better for people. I guess I’ll just take a bunch of different classes and see what I like.

Anyway, I better get back to studying for finals. Write again soon!

Love,

Donna

 

 

**June 7, 1994**

Dear Donna,

This letter _was_ going to be all about my summer internship, which I started yesterday. I was all ready to tell you about the producer I’m working for, who’s a beautiful disaster of a person but so good at her job that I just want to write down everything she says and does so I can study it every night. And I _was_ going to tell you about how the control room of a live sports show is like if you took Mission Control at NASA and filled it with a dozen neurotic theater-kid jocks. But I just got your latest letter about maybe dropping out and moving in with Brian, so today’s letter is going to be about Donna, not Natalie. Now that I’ve gotten a taste of sports production, I’m in it for the long haul, so I’ll have plenty of time to tell you all about it later.

I’m gonna guess that your parents are freaking out a little bit. Your dad is probably doing that quiet, disappointed thing and your mom is probably asking a bunch of concerned questions about your future, like, “What if you have seven kids and then Brian divorces you and then you can’t get a job and they _starve_ ?” And I know you’ve got girlfriends there in Madison to tell you their opinions on Brian and whether he’s worth giving up your college degree for. I honestly don’t know, I’ve only met the guy a couple of times. But I do know _you_.

It’s June now and summer is just starting, so I’m going to step up to my role as your Summer Best Friend and tell you something important that maybe no one else is saying: There is nothing you can do, no choice you can make now, that will ruin your future. There’s a million ways to be happy in the world: with a college degree or without one, with Brian or without him, in Madison or New York or Paris or whatever. I know you’ve been stressed out about your major for the last two years, like you were worried that there was only one soulmate career for you out there, and if you didn’t find it, you’d never be fully happy. And maybe that’s true for me! I don’t know what I’d do with my life if I couldn’t work in sports. But you? I love that you can imagine so many different futures for yourself! You’d be so great and so happy as a social worker, or a French teacher, or a biologist, or a stay-at-home mom, or whatever. So when you’re trying to make these big decisions about your life, just remember that you’ll be awesome at whatever you choose.

Anyway, write me back soon and tell me what you decide. Or give me a call here in New York. (I gave you the number here, right? I’m living in a tiny apartment with like seven other interns, so just ask for me if someone else picks up the phone.)

Love,

Natalie

 

**May 23, 1996**

Dear Natalie,

That is so exciting! Yes, I do remember you telling me about Dana Whitaker from your first summer internship. She sounded like a really good boss, and she must have thought very highly of your work if she asked you to come work for her after graduation! Wow, “assistant producer” right out of college, that’s amazing. You totally deserve it.

What’s the name of the show, again? I think you said it was on CSC? I know about that channel because Brian watches games on it sometimes. I’ll have to tell him that they’re starting a new sports news show. Maybe we can watch it together. I usually don’t stay up that late because I have to be at the office so early, but maybe I could tape it. I can’t wait to see your name in the credits!

My job is going pretty good, I guess. I finally worked up my nerve to ask for a raise, but my boss said he doesn’t think a personal assistant in the firm should make as much a paralegal. Which made me think, maybe you should be paying your paralegals more?? But I knew I wouldn’t get anywhere with him if I tried to argue it, so instead I had lunch with some of the paralegals and just happened to mention that they make barely more than the PAs at the company, and maybe they should compare their salaries with other law firms in the area. They ended up going to the partners as a group and negotiating 5% raise in all their salaries at the end of the year. It doesn’t really help the personal assistants right now, but at least next time I ask my boss for a raise, he won’t be able to use that same argument! And at least the paralegals are getting paid what they deserve, they work really hard.

I was actually really proud of myself for the way it worked out, but Brian didn’t think it was that impressive. He said I should have stood up for myself more, but that would just have ended up with me getting fired and the paralegals still unaware that they were being underpaid. I think Brian just doesn’t like lawyers very much. He thinks they’re all scamming the rest of us, lining their pockets by getting us all to sue each other.

But I really like the lawyers at the firm where I work. One of the partners even does pro bono work representing immigrants trying to become citizens. And she was telling me the other day about her friend from law school, who worked as a speechwriter and policy advisor for President Newman. I would never want to run for office, but I like the idea of that kind of behind-the-scenes work to support the people who do. I mentioned it to Brian, and told him that maybe I’d go to law school someday and get into politics, but he just laughed and said, “Law school is for psychopaths and people too stupid to get into med school.” Sometimes I think he doesn’t believe it’s possible to contribute to society unless you’re saving lives as a doctor.

Anyway, he graduates at the end of the year, and he always said I should go back to school once he’s making plenty of money as a doctor, so I guess it’s time for me to start thinking about my options. I don’t want to go through half a dozen majors like last time!

Good luck with finals. I look forward to hearing all about your new job once you start next month!

Love,

Donna

 

 

**February 2, 1997**

Dear Donna,

So you got dumped. That schlub (he no longer deserves a name) kept you around to pay the bills and clean up after him, then dropped you like a hot potato once he graduated and realized he didn’t need your sweet, sweet personal assistant salary anymore. Don’t feel dumb, it happens to all of us. I mean, for me, they’re usually just keeping me around for my sweet, sweet lovin’, because my associate producer salary isn’t worth crap in Manhattan, but I’ve been there.

By the time this letter reaches you, you’ll be about a week out from the breakup, and maybe you’ll be feeling a little desperate. Like you want to do something crazy, to get what’s-his-name’s attention and make him realize what a mistake he’s made. Now, some of your other friends will probably be telling you to stay calm and not make any big decisions, to wait until you’ve settled down a bit before you decide what to do next. Not this friend. You want my advice? I’m going to just assume the answer is yes, since you’re still reading.

My advice is: channel that feeling. _Embrace_ the desperation, just enough to do something you’d never be brave enough to do otherwise. Go apply to law school! Buy a plane ticket to Paris! Drive out to New Hampshire and find that guy running for president that you were telling me about, the guy whose speeches you like? Show up on his doorstep and tell him you’re his new assistant. Or I guess he probably already has an assistant, he’s a governor. Okay then, new plan: find the highest-ranking person in his campaign and tell _them_ you’re their new assistant. No application, no job interview, just tell them you’re just what they need, you’re their MVP. Fake it till you make it. You’ll be running the place in a year, I guarantee it.

Of course, there’s always the more traditional path: ice cream, wine, bad movies. Now that you’re not paying jerkface’s tuition anymore, you can probably at least afford a ticket to JFK to visit your Summer Best Friend. I’ll show you around the city! Soon, you won’t remember his name, either.

Love,

Natalie

 

 

**October 22, 1998**

From: donnatella.m@aol.com

To: hurleygurl@hotmail.com

Subject: I wish I could email you a hug

 

Dear Natalie,

When I saw your picture on the news this morning, I picked up the phone to call you. I had the phone in my hand and everything. But then I thought, she probably has enough people calling her today.

I’ve been lucky in my life and nothing like Christian Patrick has ever happened to me. At least, not that bad. But… well, you remember when my dog Betsy died, our sophomore year of high school? You called me and said, “You can talk about Betsy as much as you want to, but we can also just talk about nothing for a while if that’s what you need.” And then we just chatted about silly kid stuff for a while, the dumb boys at school, the teachers we liked. You probably explained the rules of some obscure sport to me. And then later I ended up crying a little bit because I missed Betsy, but it was so nice just to not have to think about it for a little while.

I’m sure you have your friends there to support you and a million journalists trying to talk to you and lawyers wanting your statement. You’ve got my number if you need another friend to talk to about Christian Patrick. But we can also just talk about nothing for a while if that’s what you need. Here are some things that have nothing to do with sports or journalism or horrible men:

I got a letter from my mother today (she doesn’t think this “email” thing is going to catch on). Do you remember me telling you that my parents got a new dog a few months ago? Well, she’s decided to make little Puffles a costume for Halloween, and she sent me a Polaroid of the poor dog trying it on. A pirate costume. For a Pomeranian.

Speaking of family, I got a call from my cousin Monica last week. She’s really enjoying her job at CSC. She says her supervisors Maureen and Joe are really sweet, and she’s getting lots of great wardrobe experience on all the different shows. She talked my ear off about color balancing and fabric textures, actually. Anyway, thanks again for forwarding her resume along to Mr. Jaffe.

I think I’ve already told you about one of the other assistants here, her name is Margaret and she’s very strange (you’d love her). Well, the other day some of the staff and their assistants were in her boss’s office for a meeting. Everyone’s talking about serious business, when suddenly me and Carol and a couple of the other assistants notice that Margaret has gum in her hair. Like, chewing gum, tangled up in her hair on the back of her head. So we’re trying to get her attention, and not distract everyone from the important work going on, but she’s totally oblivious. Then her boss, Leo McGarry, the Chief of Staff, stops mid-sentence and shouts, “Margaret, why do you have gum in your hair?” And Margaret just sighs, reaches into a desk drawer for scissors, _snips off the hair with the gum stuck in it_ , and goes, “Not _again_.” Me and Carol are trying desperately not to laugh, the staff all look dumbfounded, and Margaret just picks up her notepad, like, “Let’s get on with it, then.” Later, Carol and I asked her about the gum, because we knew it was probably a hilariously weird story, knowing Margaret, and she just shakes her head and says, “I know, right? I don’t even like gum.”

Anyway, you have my number, if you want to hear more Margaret stories, or tell me more about that guy Jeremy from your last email, or whatever you want to talk about.

Love,

Donna

 

 

**October 15, 1999**

From: hurleygurl@hotmail.com

To: donnatella.m@aol.com

Subject: Back in NYC

 

Dear Donna,

I’m back in New York now. I’m so glad we got time to catch up while I was in DC. We should make this a regular thing, whenever I’m in town for a feature on the Redskins or the Capitals. Or the Wizards, I guess. Or DC United, although that seems unlikely while Dan Rydell is still alive and employed by this network.

Anyway, when I called you about having lunch, I did not expect to end up with a tour of the White House and introductions to half the senior staff! (It’s a good thing I didn’t meet the President, I wouldn’t have been able to resist a Lance Armstrong joke, even though that bike vs. tree incident was weeks ago. Besides, Casey already wrote that joke, and it was much better than mine would have been.) It was great to finally meet Josh, who’s taller than I expected but somehow even more clueless than you had led me to believe. He sort of reminds me of Dana, actually, how he can be completely brilliant when he’s talking about his work, and then the next minute, will walk face-first into a glass door.

I think that Sam Seaborn has a little thing for me. Or maybe for you. And definitely for Josh. Or maybe he just looks at everyone that way? But truly the highlight of my day (besides seeing you, obviously) was getting to meet the one-and-only Margaret, in person. She really nails that perfect blend of captivating and off-putting.

Anyway, it was kind of a drag to have to come back to the studio after my glamorous DC working vacation. Don’t get me wrong, I still love my job, and I never thought I’d be calling it “a drag”, but things around here are pretty tense. They’ve brought in this mercenary consultant to boost our ratings, and he’s got everyone on edge. And not in a fun Margaret way. He clearly doesn’t care whether any of us like him, and he definitely doesn’t appear to like any of us. Which, fine, I get it. I mean, I’m pretty likeable. I’m not saying I’m the most likeable person in the entire world, but it’s not like it’s difficult to like me. It takes minimal effort, really. But whatever, this Sam Donovan gets off on being the bad guy, that’s his business. But he’s putting everyone off their game. This show usually runs like… well, maybe not like clockwork, but like a fairly well-maintained car engine that’s maybe got a few miles on it but still runs pretty great. But now we’re off our game, we’re dropping passes, we’re stiff. I don’t like it.

It’s not just Sam Donovan, honestly. Everything’s felt a bit off lately. Isaac’s back at work, but he’s still recovering from his stroke, and even just watching him walking around with his cane reminds everyone how close we came to losing him. And I think Jeremy’s still a little miffed about that job offer in Galveston I was considering. (Don’t worry, I wasn’t really considering Galveston. How could I move so far away from New York and you and the ocean and my one true love, Sam Seaborn?) But mostly it’s Sam Donovan, and the network, and what Sam Donovan represents. He’s making Dana doubt herself. He’s making her miserable, and I’m thinking of murdering him in his sleep.

But you know what? Jeremy is incredibly cute, Isaac is alive and getting stronger every day, and Sam Donovan is alive but on the bright side, he won’t stay that way forever. And I now have an official White House pen for writing letters to my Summer Best Friend. So it’s not all bad.

Write soon!

Love,

Natalie

 

 

**April 3, 2000**

From: donnatella.m@aol.com

To: hurleygurl@hotmail.com

Subject: 100 years ago people had to write paper letters to each other, can you IMAGINE?

 

Dear Natalie,

I am so mad on your behalf that you won’t get to go to the Olympics! I had really been looking forward to watching the sidelines of every event to see if I could spot you behind a camera. Or, next to a camera, I guess, because you never actually hold a camera, right? That’s someone else’s job.

But mostly I’m mad on your behalf that the network is nibbling away at your show, piece by piece, while your CEO just swims around in what I imagine is a huge pool of money. And then to blame it on your ratings! I mean, I definitely sympathize there, we sort of live or die by our approval ratings down here in DC, too, but at least we get a couple years to breathe and do our job between elections. With you guys, it’s every week! I can’t imagine working in those conditions.

I know you’re loyal to Dana. Hell, I know you’d arm-wrestle a bear for Dana. But I’m glad you’re looking at other options, too. And even though I know she’d hate to lose you (because you’re amazing at your job), I also know she loves you and wants the best for you. Because that’s what a good boss does: they want you to grow beyond them, to go on to bigger and better things. And Dana is a good boss, and a good friend. That’s why I know she’ll be supportive when you tell her about this interview with _Saturday Night Live_.

In the meantime, chin up, fight the good fight, do not go gentle into that good night. (I should really get some speechwriting tips from Sam if I’m going to try doing the inspirational-speech thing, sorry.) And if all else fails, apparently we have a $32 billion surplus lying around here somewhere. Maybe I can get Josh to get the President to federalize CSC and make it the Public Sports Broadcasting Channel. Of course, then you’d all be on crappy government salaries, but at least you would be able to do your show without interference from a money-grubbing network. Just interference from Congress. Hmm, maybe this isn’t the best plan.

Anyway, I’ve been reading this book about what life was like 100 years ago, and what I’m trying to say is that a century ago, there was no television, no instant replay, no satellite coverage of the Olympics from the other side of the planet, and no chance in Hell that women or African-Americans would be employed as supervisors in an organization the size of CSC. And tonight, you and Dana and Isaac get to bring live sports coverage from around the world to millions of Americans. Three years ago, I was a broke, single college dropout with mild depression and no prospects. And a month ago, I flew to Los Angeles on Air Force One and got to meet David Hasselhoff. So you see? Things get better. Not all at once, not smoothly. But someday you’ll look back and been amazed at how far you’ve come from where you were.

Love,

Donna

 

 

**May 18, 2000**

From: hurleygurl@hotmail.com

To: donnatella.m@aol.com

Subject: This is what friends gear up for

 

Dear Donna,

I’m really glad you’re not dead. I had forgotten you told me you were going to clean your apartment last night and that you were relieved you weren’t going to have to sit in Virginia traffic with the staff, so when the network cut into our show with the news, I kind of lost it for a minute. I tried to call you actually, at your apartment and your office but then when they said Josh Lyman had been shot, I remembered that you weren’t going to Rosslyn and that you were probably safe and sound at the hospital.

My friends on the show all know about you (you should have heard me bragging when you won the Illinois primary!). For what it’s worth, they told me they’re all praying for you. Not for the President, because Lord knows the whole country is falling over themselves to pray for him today, but for you and for Josh. (Except my coworker Will who says he wants to pray for that other girl who got shot, Stephanie Abbott, because he’s worried she’s going to get lost in the shuffle.) So that’s three Jews, two Catholics (one lapsed, one still going strong!), a handful of Protestants, a few agnostics and a “I consider myself a spiritual person, not a religious person”, all hoping really loudly in God’s direction that everything turns out all right with Josh and that you get back to feeling safe and happy and normal as soon as possible.

In the meantime, we probably won’t be back on the air for a day or two, so I’ve got some free time. I don’t know where you are today or when you’ll get back to a computer and see this. But when you do, here’s a few paragraphs of me talking about nothing for a while, if that’s what you need:

So, Jeremy and I are back together. I know, I know, I said I’d never forgive him and I hate his guts, but you’ll also recall that I said I was still in love with him and wanted to jump his bones. And you’ll recall that I said both of those things on the phone to your answering machine at 3am after a _significant_ number of piña coladas. But in the sober light of day, the truth turned out to be somewhere in the middle, and we’ve both decided we want to try again, with a little more effort to not be total jerks to each other. Also, I totally jumped his bones in Isaac’s office. That was actually less fun that I always imagined it being. I mean, the sex was great, obviously, but then we had to put all the office supplies and knick knacks and papers back on his desk, which was pretty time-consuming.

But wait, you’re saying, how are you and Jeremy going to try to make this work if you’re going to follow Dana to Los Angeles for that new job? Well, for one thing, that job wasn’t a sure thing yet, because Dana wasn’t sure whether she was going to take the new show because it looked like Casey wasn’t going to move to LA take the new show, and besides that she hadn’t negotiated a senior associate spot for me yet, and besides that I was still looking at openings here in New York, and besides all that, WE STILL HAVE OUR OLD SHOW. Some computer tech gazillionaire who swooped in and bought the network, and he likes the show and doesn’t need our coaxial cables, I guess, so he’s keeping us around. Also it turns out he’s sort of been stalking Dana for a few days? But she seems into it, whatever. You should have seen her face when she came into the studio with the news, I’ve never seen her so happy, I love her so much. God, I can’t imagine what I’d do if she got hurt just doing her job like Josh— sorry, I’m not great at this.

Anyway, we’re keeping the show, everyone staying, Jeremy and I are back together, and he and I had hot steamy sex in our boss’s boss’s office and then spent twenty minutes arguing about where the stapler had been on his desk. Also, it sounds like I might get to go to the OIympics after all. We’re still partnering with a local team, but they want to send a couple of our producers out to Sydney to coordinate, and Dana says I’m her girl. So start recommending books now for the plane, it’ll be a fifteen hour flight from LA. Do you think Russell Crowe will be there? I think Russell Crowe has a little crush on me. Or he would, if he met me. Jeremy would understand; he’s seen _Gladiator_ twice now. Speaking of crushes, how’s Sam Seaborn doing? He must be a wreck about Josh, he’s known him almost as long as you and I have known each other. Did I mention I’m really glad you’re okay?

Ugh, I’m doing a really terrible job at distracting you from all the terrible stuff. It’s just that my best day was also your worst one, and I feel awful talking about Jeremy and the show and how happy everyone is here, while I’m picturing your friends from work and how they love each other just as much as I love Dana and Casey and Dan and Isaac, and how shattered they must be right now. So instead I’m going to tell you what our new boss’s boss’s boss said when he visited the studio earlier today. This is Mr. Tech Gazillionaire, and apparently he’s pretty shy and hands-off, but after the sale and then the news of the shooting, he figured we’d all be pretty disoriented and I guess he wanted to reassure us or something. Anyway, he stopped by our first rundown meeting today in the conference room and told us: “At times like these, when it feels like the ground is shifting underneath you, it can be tempting to look down at your feet, to focus on where you are, or where you thought you were. But that’s how you get stuck in the rubble. Instead, I want to ask you all: Where are you going? Where do you want to be? How will you get there? What’s next?”

Whatever’s next for you, I’m here when you need me.

Love,

Natalie

**Author's Note:**

> You had a delightful list of prompts, and I wish I could have fit more of them in here, but I hope an epistolary friendship origin story for Natalie and Donna suits your tastes.


End file.
